Page 71 of Sincerely, Butterfly

I chew on my lower lip, still not convinced this is a good idea.

I’m in a maroon top with flowing long sleeves that billow out at the bottom. It covers my body, not showing any skin, but it is form-fitting, meaning the outline of my breasts shows.

They’re not massive, but they're not small.

But this shirt makes them pop.

I’m also dressed in a pair of ripped skinny jeans. Normally, this isn’t my style, and the idea of not being covered up in my comfy leggings and baggy sweater is making me feel a little off.

I think I look good. And, I feel pretty.

Things changed the moment I saw how the three of them looked me over, the way their eyes devoured my body.

It made me feel sexy, powerful. I hate attention from anyone else, but theirs… it was intoxicating.

If I can get them to look at me like that when I’m just Nola, not some mystery girl, then what could it hurt if I wore somethingdifferent?

Checking the time, I grab my bags and head down to my car. It’s a sunny day, just adding to my good mood.

Pulling out of my driveway, I pull up my playlist and press play.Trinketsby Ashnikko starts playing, and my smile grows even wider.

I jam out as I speed down the street, my window open, wind blowing through my hair.

I don’t bother turning down the music as I pull into the student parking lot. The song changes toMicroplastics, and I let it play, singing along, not caring that people are watching me. It’s a good song, I can’t help it.

Closing my eyes, I really get into it, dancing in my seat, even turning the music up a little bit more.

It’s like something in me has changed. I’ve never really cared about what people thought of me before, but I did my best to avoid their attention if I could.

Now, I don’t give a single fuck. Knowing I could just end their lives if they pissed me off enough is freeing.

Nothing like a confidence boost of knowing what you’re really capable of.

The song ends, and I decide now would be the best time to leave. Shutting the car off, I grab my backpack out of the front seat and climb out.

I catch the attention of someone as I shut the car door. She’s watching me with a smile on her face. Not a mocking one, or like she thought my little jam sesh was stupid, but a genuine pull of her lips.

Huh.

“Hi.” She waves when I don’t look away.

“Hi,” I say back. She’s being nice, something I’m not used to. But not every person will be an asshole like the people I grew up around.

She doesn’t look familiar, so I don’t think she’s from around here.

“I love Ashnikko too. I’m obsessed with herSmoochiesalbum.”

That has me perking up. I’ve never met someone who liked the same kind of music as I do.

One time in school, one of the girls saw my playlist on my phonewhen I was changing the song and laughed. Said Ashnikko was a freak, and her music was trash.

I wasn’t going to argue with them, it wasn't worth my time. And they’re not wrong, Ashnikko isn’t for everyone, but she’s not a freak. She’s different, fun, and quirky. There’s nothing boring about her, and that's what I love. Also, she’s way better of a person than any of them.

“Same,” I huff out on a laugh. “I think I’ve listened to it about two hundred times now.”

The girl smiles wider. “Sounds about the same for me, too,” she laughs.

She’s sitting on a picnic table that's right next to where I parked my Jeep. Long midnight black hair cascades over her shoulders in loose waves, similar to how I have mine styled. Her bright blue eyes stand out, giving her an ethereal glow.